


Patient Eyes

by dri_br



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst and Humor, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Epic Bromance, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, I can't believe I'm writing 1D fanfic!, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dri_br/pseuds/dri_br
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever it is I do, I try to think about you.<br/>I have a love for you that nothing hides.<br/>Whatever it is I do, I'm only thinking of you.<br/>I hope you look at me through patient eyes.</p>
<p>PM Down - Patient Eyes</p>
<p>Harry just wished Louis would trust him with his present, past and future. Louis just wished this time these patient eyes would be for real. And then there was the love they had yet to find. Or rather, the love Harry so badly wanted Louis to believe they could have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chips of porcelain dug into the flesh of Louis' palms.

Some of them, the sharpest edged ones, broke into his skin, sticky and metallic because of the (his) blood on the carpet he had just vacuumed twice this morning, first before Johnny had woken up.

Then again, soon after Johnny had pushed him down on his knees before the sofa, smarting eyes and bleeding nose, right where Louis had missed a kernel of popcorn from the night before.

Thank God, Johnny had missed the one that had rolled under the sofa. The same one Louis could see now that his hands had given up under the combined weight of his body and the barely-there one of their unborn child when Louis' body lost its fight against gravity.

"'m... s... sor...ry," Louis chocked out for the...

How many times had it been... and for what purpose again?

It was not because of the popcorn. Johnny had already slapped him twice because Louis was not neat enough, was a slob that could not keep their flat neat enough.

If Johnny would just listen to him, just this once.

It was the pregnancy. Their baby made Louis tired all the time. If he weren't throwing up, he just wanted to sleep and sometimes his body commanded him to rest, to let go just for a little bit when Johnny wasn’t around. This weariness of limbs and nerves was stronger than his sense of self-preservation, of being caught unguarded, and that would be when the fatigue and stress of doing things right all the time would take their toll on him, like this morning. He hadn't meant to make Johnny mad, only he had.

He was a bad boyfriend but, by God, he tried all the fucking time.

There was the crash again, more porcelain shattering against wall (a plate? his granny's vase? Louis didn't know; he had already made Johnny destroy so much), shards and fear gathering somewhere near Louis' bare feet, mixing with the small pool of spit and blood that Louis had managed to crawl away from, before Johnny's boot made contact with the arm Louis had wrapped protectively around the gentle swell of his belly.

Or was it the impact of Johnny's boot on his second successful attempt at kicking Louis' ribs that had made Louis roll away? Louis wasn't sure. Everything hurt, and the kicks kept coming, and Johnny kept screaming that it was all Louis' fault.

It was always Louis's fault. Louis had no idea why Johnny kept him around, why Johnny loved him, because Louis couldn't do anything right.

He was just so terrible at everything, at keeping their flat, at making Johnny happy.

Three years and he still was to learn how to make Johnny happy.

He knew Johnny was right: Louis was a shitty boyfriend and would be a terrible father, a terrible dad to their child.

Their child; Johnny had to stop for their child,

 "No," Louis coughed against the carpet, spit and bilis dripping down his chin, hand cupping his belly, protecting his baby. "The baby... please..."

"IT AIN'T MY FUCKING CHILD!"

This time Louis wasn't strong enough.

Louis felt it in his core, the boot connecting to his wrist, pushing onto his belly, snapping bones in a sharp pop that clouded his eyes, and the blood that started dribbling hot and thick between his legs, making him gasp for air.

His child.

His child.

So much pain and despair weighing his body down, making his head spin, making him hear things he wasn't supposed to, because he had prayed and screamed before and it never happened.

Nobody never came.

But this time it was vague and distant, the buzzing in his head and ears sounding like his name and more crash.

But who... Nobody...

God, the baby… it hurt.

"GET OFF HIM, YOU MOTHERFUCKER FROM HELL!"

Zayn?

No, dear God, not Zayn! He couldn't hurt Zayn too!

A scuffle, more voices joining the ones of Zayn and Johnny (and if Johnny ever got wind that Louis' first concern had been directed at Zayn...), and then the painful reminder that he was in badly need of help.

He tightened his broken hand against his belly and it hurt and burned and he shivered all over, but his baby needed him. The pain rolled in waves through his broken bones, tenfold more intense than before the first kick, from when it had all started because now Louis remembered.

He was a lousy boyfriend who couldn't even make a good job of sucking his boyfriend off before Johnny's weekly football match with his pals and take of some of the adrenaline from Johnny. His boyfriend had just wanted to loosen up before the game and Louis had failed. He had swallowed everything Johnny had to give, but somehow he had still failed.

Johnny had lost the game, and it was all Louis' fault.

Even so Zayn, his childhood Zayn, his for the better and for the worse Zayn shouldn't be here!

Johnny had never liked Zayn, had never made the effort to understand that Louis and Zayn went way back before Louis had met and fallen for Johnny during his first year at Uni.

Louis had stopped trying to make Johnny see reason that one time Johnny had used his fists to imprint his love and discontentment in Louis' skin because Louis had spent more time talking with Zayn than with Johnny at Greg's birthday party.

Johnny then had taken Louis in their toilet, fucking Louis with his love and begging for his forgiveness, until Louis had passed out on the floor, both from the concussion and from the pain in his bruised ribs, pieces of their broken mirror scattered around him and his vomit under his cheek.

Johnny would always love Louis and Louis would always forgive Johnny no matter how badly both had messed up.

The pain and the nausea were there again, taking Louis by assault, and the sticky, hot stuff running between his legs and ruining the expensive sweatpants Johnny had given him (because there was a time, right in the very beginning, when Louis had been good) and that Louis refused to knowledge for what it was because then it would mean...

He closed his eyes.

"No, no, no,no!" Zayn, because Johnny never touched and caressed his face anymore, not since Louis got pregnant and lost a little bit more of Johnny because his boyfriend didn't believe the baby was his. "Louis, mate, open your eyes for me, sweetheart. Help is on the way."

Louis blinked his eyes open. Just for a second, just to make sure his best friend was okay.

"Z’yn..."

"Hush, sweetheart, you will be alright." But Zayn was crying, silent tears, but tears nonetheless. "You'll be alright, mate. They will fix you. You will be alright."

There was blood on Zayn's nose and his eyes were bruised, his lips split. Zayn's was going to be all black and blue in the morning; Louis' fault.

Another blink and he could see Greg and Josh holding Johnny down, watching with fearful eyes Louis struggle to breathe and to keep his child safe, because Louis couldn't...

But Louis knew. Louis knew those would be his last moments in their flat unfolding before his eyes:

One painful blink of eye after another…

The uniforms and paramedics pushing through the crowd of people gathered at their door… someone was asking questions and Zayn was holding Louis' hand, not letting go.

…the spam of one gush of blood until the next.

Louis was carefully rolled onto his back, a brace put around his neck, silently begging the people around him to save his child.

…reality fading into hues of red and flashes of death…

…being wheeled out of their flat…

Zayn by his side chanting everything would be okay…

…Greg and Josh all rounded eyes and bruised faces petting their encouragement into his hair…

…the cops handcuffing Johnny….

…the sharp pull in his abdomen… the metallic taste of blood in his tongue… blood dampening the space between his legs…

…heart speeding to a slow death…

…his boyfriend's eyes, clear, limpid and green…

Patient eyes, Louis used to call them back to a time when he didn’t know forgiving and forgetting would take such a major portion of his life.

…holding a promise, the same promise from when this, them had started…

This - them – they weren’t over.

Only they were because this time when Louis closed his eyes…

…they didn't open again.

******

To be continued in Chapter 1.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is a must, and it there's anyone willing to be my beta, i would owe you forever!


	2. Chapter 2

# Five years later

 

His fridge and pantry were pitiful sights of emptiness and food that would go bad soon. Still, Harry chose to ignore them for the moment and pushed the living room curtain aside to stare at the fading raindrops dotting the windowpane.

He loved mornings, loved sleeping in on Sundays even better, but with the coffee shop and the hours he pulled at the hospital, _for the hospital_ , he almost never got the chance to enjoy the cozy warmth of his bed anymore.

Today was Sunday, meaning he had been supposed to be lying in his obscenely, hundreds of threads soft sheets, dozing off and hoping for more rain and the excuse of not having to move for a bit longer. That was what lazy Sunday mornings should be about: knowing he had absolutely nothing to do until his body started screaming at him to get up and start his day. It usually happened when he had less than one hour to kick out whoever he had brought home the night before, get up and make himself presentable before picking up his sister next door whenever she wasn’t on call at the hospital, and drive to their parents’ for their family Sunday brunch or dinner, depending on the weekend. This weekend it would be dinner and no one to kick out of his bed.

Harry let the curtains fall back in place and headed for the kitchen. He’d better sort out what to make for breakfast, because the reasons why he had left his bed at this ungodly hour - aka his sister and whatever the hell her Zayn was – along with Niall and cousin Liam would in no time be knocking on his door searching for food.

Feeding the bloke who made Harry miss sleep because said bloke spent the night fuc... screw... having a go at... Oh, hell, doing _whatever_ with his sister was something that was beyond all of his mates’ comprehension; they all also knew the way Harry was wired… So, yeah, Zayn got to share breakfast with them.

Besides, hell, Gemma was happy, eight months going strong with this Zayn bloke. Not that Harry was counting, but the thump-thump Harry stubbornly refused to admit was a headboard (his sister’s) hitting the opposite wall to his bed had started sometime after Harry’s birthday in February, bloomed with spring, blazed with summer, and was nowhere near fading in this early October autumn.

Anyway, he needed to figure out how the hell he was going to feed a small army of ten (because his best mate Niall could easily out eat any of them twice on Sunday) before his shower.

He also needed to learn how to get over the reason why big sis Gem going steady with the same bloke was so annoying to him:

It had been a long time since Harry had had someone to kick out of his bed, and even longer since there had been someone he had wanted _to_ _keep_ in his bed and cuddle them until he was forced to let them go.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t happy for Gemma, because he was, even if he wished to be spared of the evidence of her bedroom activities. And Zayn was okay, treated Gem with respect.

Truth was Harry liked Zayn, totally forgave him for when Harry made his _you hurt her, I’ll hurt you_ little brother speech and Zayn kind of laughed at him because everybody knew violence just wasn’t a Harry thing, and Zayn was no flower child with the scruff and dark looks and tattoos. Still Zayn had humored him and they had shaken hands on it, despite knowing Gem didn’t need her little brother to kick someone’s ass for her; she could do so herself, with way more accuracy and ferocity than Harry could ever dream of.

Just in case, in the medicine cabinet, hidden among boxes of condoms, tubes of lube, and one or two bottles of cough syrup and cold medicine, there was the laxative Harry had gotten after the first time he had woken up to the damned thump-thump and his sister moaning. Disoriented and tripping on his feet, he had scurried down the stairs to his living room in panic, thinking of ways to bleach his mind clean from the images his vivid imagination and long forgotten biology lessons were putting together. He had spent the rest of the night and the next day huddled in his sofa, which he still did when things got too intense in the house attached to his. He would be scared for life before he turned thirty, and no decent, supportive little brother such as he was should go through the things he did.

Anyway, Gemma and Zayn were just that lucky Harry was such a sweetheart; the bloke would be laxative-free-fed for another weekend.

Harry shut his almost empty fridge in dismay. He was a wonder in the kitchen, not a miracle worker. Sunnyside eggs and parmesan toast would have to do for today.

He rushed to his en suite bathroom to take a shower and get ready for a typical once a month morning of feeding everybody and making fun of Zayn just to have Gemma staring daggers at _him_ with the promises of a very painful, spectacular death if he didn’t let go. Having Zayn blush and squirm in his seat because the bloke was too much of a private person to appreciate Harry’s innuendos was worth the threat, although Harry suspected that any time really soon Gemma was going to kick _his ass_ if he didn’t leave the man she was falling for alone.

Harry turned on the showerhead and turned up the music in the iPod dock he had in his bedroom just to err on the safe side of caution if Gemma and Zayn decided to have another go at it.

He took his time washing up and rinsing his hair because, really, damned curls! He then stepped out of the tub, wrapped a large towel around his middle and got a smaller one to dry his hair, all the while singing along with his playlist.

Hair as dry as it would get, he spread some lotion along the curls to try and tame them for the day. He didn’t quite succeed, but damn, it was his day off, so it would have to do.

Turning his head this way and that as he ran the pads of his fingers along the barely rough skin of his face and neck, he decided not to shave; at twenty-four he was embarrassed to admit he just needed a razor every other day or so.

Pulling on some underwear and socks, a comfortable pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt that he loved and was one wash away from falling apart, Harry made his way back downstairs and got busy with his cooking for the guests that weren’t real guests and that he had elected to put up with anyway.

The first non-guest to arrive was Niall with a box of orange juice that wouldn’t make up for cleaning Harry’s meager supply of food, and his familiar, friendly smile. Harry smiled back and bumped fists with his friend.

“How you doing, mate?” Niall asked, rushing his way to the kitchen, his favorite place at Harry’s.  “You don’t look so sharp. Another sleepless night?”

“You can say so.” Harry scrapped for more bread and parmesan concoction, because Niall had gotten here first and there would be no toast left for Gem and Zayn. Would serve them right for making Harry lose some precious hours of sleep.

“Told you I’d make a better brother-in-law, mate,” Niall said, hopping onto a stool at the kitchen counter with a plate full of eggs and toast and a mug of fresh brewed tea.

Harry snorted. “You?”

Niall straightened up on the stool and frowned undignified brows at Harry, too busy shoveling food in his mouth to point his fork at Harry. “I’m way more vocal than our boy pal Zayn.” Harry just stared because, really? “Come on, Haz! I just have your best interests at heart, mate! You’d be listening to me, not to our sweet Gemma, get over your trauma and I’d be making the frustrated fourteen year old that still lives inside of me a very happy lad. A win-win situation all around!”

Yeah, okay, yeah.

 

“Niall, just keep on eating, okay?”

Niall shrugged and broke a piece of toast to dip into the running yolk. Apparently talking about wet dreams involving one’s best mate’s sister was no big deal. “You should make more of these too. Do we have any jam?”

“There’s garlic on the toast.”

“So?”

Harry sighed and got the last four eggs and the jar of mom’s homemade strawberry jam from the fridge. “One of these days you gonna wake up with no shares of the coffee shop, mate. And also without a dick, if you ever talk about my sister that way again.”

Niall grinned. “What can I do? I’m a growing boy. I need sustenance. Besides you know how fit your sister is!”

“No, I don’t because Gemma. Is. My. Sister.”

 

“Fit sister.”

 

Harry squared his shoulders with as much dignity as desperate times calling for desperate measures would allow. There was just so much he could take before forgetting how many times Niall, his bro in arms had been there for him! It would be a low blow because Harry and Niall had an agreement. Harry respected that agreement, protected that agreement, and hated himself for what he was about to do, but Niall was just asking for it!

“Funny how I remember celebrating your silver anniversary with life just last month, mister growing boy.” Harry smiled and winked; Niall frowned and turned suspicious eyes at Harry. Sweet! “Revived my teens too, dancing with your hunk of a brother that night. A nice piece of ass that Greg has, if I must. Took my backdoor virginity when I was sixteen, yeah? Pass the pepper.”

Niall gagged around his food and actually put his fork away. “You swore, Harry!”

Harry ended up getting the pepper himself. “If you just knew how huge your brother is you would understand why he is unforgettable!”

Niall got definitely green, plate of food forgotten, and Harry feared the memories of his misspent youth had perhaps shifted Earth a few centimeters out of its axis, sucking them into a parallel universe.

“You’re… friends with his wife… who thinks you shit gold! You should… Shame on you, mate!” Then he just threw his hands in the air, claiming defeat. “Okay, I got it, siblings are off limits! I got it!”

“Cool.”

“But you gotta treat me to dinner at some point this week if you want to be best mates again. Just consider this my kind act of forgiveness for your youthful indiscretions,” Niall said back around a mouthful of eggs and a new smile, and the Earth’s axis tilted back in place. Harry just smiled back and shook his head agreeing anyway.

“Blackmailing is so not cool, man! But I’ll abide to your wishes and prepare a homemade meal just for you.”

“And for Lee!”

Harry agreed with an awkward smile to make up for the loneliness attaching itself to his tissues and nerve endings and that just made him _feel_.

Niall noticed, forked his food with eyes trained on Harry, chewed slowly, waiting. Turning his back on Niall, he got busy seasoning the butter for the new batch of toast with garlic, oregano, parmesan cheese and a bit of pepper, his bio-dad’s recipe, waiting for this empathy they had been sharing by osmosis since they were kids to kick in.

Niall understanding came in the form of metal clicking against porcelain with more intent and frequency. For now it would do.

“So what is it that’s really bugging you?”

A very short, lived now.

“Bugging me?” Harry asked trying to gain some time, just enough to gather the words without making a fool out of himself.

Eyes sweeping around the kitchen, he found his mobile lying next to the toaster. He typed a quick text to his sister, asking her to bring over more eggs. This was new policy for Harry. A couple of years ago, before Zayn, before Danielle, he would just have called his sister or Liam without a second thought; after Zayn and Danielle, he would better text first.  He feared he would have to start doing the same with Niall now that there was a Lee, and felt like a bastard.

“Yeah? You seem… I don’t know…”

 

“No idea of what you mean, mate.”

 

“I don’t think it’s only your sister getting some-”

 

“Hey!”

 

“-that’s making you this antsy, and you go easy on the pepper. You know it gives me heartburns.”

Something tickled on the back of this throat, on the tip of his tongue, yet instead Harry nodded, went easy on the pepper and kept silent.

“Come on, Haz, talk to me.”

Harry had known Niall for well over half his life, ever since mom had married his new dad and moved Harry and Gemma to the better side of London to live in the big house with the huge backyard next door to the loud, rambunctious, and just plain fun to be around at all times Irish boy and his family. At first, Harry had been kind of weary of so many changes at once, of having a room to call his own, of going to a new school with pocket money to spare, of seeing his mother’s beautiful face split open with a blinding smile at all times. But it was having a father figure to rely on at all times that had overwhelmed Harry to the point of Gem, then thirteen, ask their mom, half mockingly, half panicked, if her baby brother had finally gone mental.

Surely, Harry would have proved Gemma right if it weren’t for the now grown man currently looking at Harry with his eyes full of concern and mouth full of food trying to have Harry talk to him. Back then, Harry had gone through a shy, quiet phase, and God knew if Niall depended of his own quietness to save his life, Harry would have been short of a best friend for a long while now, probably from ever since Niall started talking at eleven months old, or so his mate’s parents had sworn on the Bible.

Anyway, osmoses had worked for the both of them because they had hit it off since Niall, all bright eyes and gapped grin had taken Harry under his wings. So Harry just knew he would be spilling his beans to Niall sooner rather than later. He felt a bit ridiculous because, really, he thought he would be having at least another decade before feeling shitty about himself because of this emptiness.

Most of all, he thought he would have time to get used to feeling shitty and make peace with this loneliness.

His cell buzzed on the counter, next to where he had planted his hand after having buttered the last slice of loaf. It tickled his finger when he touched the tiny blinking envelope on the screen announcing he had a new message. Gem had sent Zayn on an egg run, probably to the little grocers at the end of their street, and they would be over as soon as he got back. It gave him about ten minutes to either distract Niall or talk to him about all the silly stuff keeping him awake.

Harry put the tray with the seasoned buttered bread in the over, just like bio-dad taught him and Gemma when they were kids. “So you still seeing Lee?”

Niall blushed, smiled silly at his plate, and that was all the answer Harry needed. “Yeah, been, you know, exclusive for a while now.”

That was news to Harry and, shame on him, a new stab to his fragile ego. “You and Lee, yeah? Way to go, mate!”

“Yeah?”

“Hell, yeah, of course, yeah! Lee is great, insane for putting up with you, but I’m happy for you lads.”

“Thanks, mate,” Niall smiled, cheeks and the tips of his ears slightly flushed. His mate got it bad, and Harry envied this. “We’re good together. She could very well be the one, you know?”

Harry moved the breadboard and few pieces of cutlery he had used to the sink. He rinsed the teapot, reading it for when the rest of their group got there for their monthly meeting over the numbers on the coffee shop, their pride and joy. Even this little thing, this little meeting of theirs that had always involved Harry’s kitchen because he was the best cook in their group, and lots of argument because a partnership involving the four of them should never have worked in the first place, was not the same. For months now it had become a big game of pretending that Harry couldn’t see himself joining any time soon, and not for the lack of wanting.

There would be Liam pretending to act professional with the briefcase full of the documents they had to go over, even if they all knew his head would be over all the packing they still had to do at Daniele’s flat before moving them to his own flat.

Then there would be Gem pretending to shove Zayn away from her back while the four of them argued if they had the space for the little second hand piano Niall and Harry had been pestering them to add to their little stage on the corner.

Now if Niall really got all starry eyed because of Lee, they would lose wind on their argument of why any of their customers who wanted to take stage and risk a few notes on the acoustic guitar they had there just for this purpose could also benefit if they added a piano to the mix.

“I want that too, you know?” Harry added a couple of teabags to the boiling water before continuing. “I haven’t had anyone in, like, forever, and…”

Harry had heavy, sturdy stools to last him for a long while. Niall had no qualms about pushing them along the floor, scratching the linoleum Harry would bend over once a week to keep their original shining intact.

It was no secret Harry liked durable things, nor that Niall had no problems fussing over them to learn how long it would take him to scratch their surface.

“Haz…”

“I’m happy for you and Lee, for Li and Dani, hell even for Gem and bloody Zayn! I just…” He deflected, small, sad smile as he looked back at his mate, “I wish to give you lads reason to be glad for me too, yeah?”

“Harry, come on, mate, you’re the youngest of us! You should…”

“The youngest?” Harry snorted and moved with heavy steps to the stove, opening the oven with more pent up energy than necessary. “There are only six months between me and you and you’ve already found Lee! Liam is moving in with his girlfriend of two years, and I already dread the day Gem will come up to me to let me know Zayn will be my neighbor! Hell, Niall, my mom was already a mother of two at twenty-four!”

Niall brought his dirty dishes to the sink and leaned back, away from the wet spots left on the edge of the cabinet by the steel drainer rack. Harry hated the sympathy this awkward, at a loss for words Niall was dispensing him.

“We weren’t looking for it, you know. They… just kind of happened in our lives, Hazza.”

Niall shrugged and nudged Harry’s socked foot with the tip of his sneaker, which led Harry to momentarily not berate his friend for not having taken off his shoes once inside the house.

“You think I’m looking?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that you’re… different, Haz. You care too much to be a player. And I guess having me as a wingman didn’t help much, no?”

“Oh, come here you.” Niall laughed as Harry pulled him into a hug and kissed the tip of his nose. Niall was so laidback and comfortable around Harry, back in the days he had never cared about how vocal any of their pals in their old neighborhood had got about whether they had a thing going on or not. “Are you kidding? Playing wingman for you helped me score more ass than a lad my age should be allowed to.” They laughed again and Harry pushed away from him to check on the toast.

“That we did.” The radiant glint in his blue eyes had always been a mesmerizing sight in Cheeky Niall. This morning there was a new quality added to them though, a melancholy for things Harry knew Niall perhaps wouldn’t miss because of Lee. Harry was by no means bitter, but this longing bruising his lungs certainly was.

“I’m happy for all of you, Ni, I really am.”

“I know you are, mate.” Niall racked his fingers through Harry’s hair, totally ignoring the yelp of protest and the hand swatting his away. “For a moment there I feared you fancied your bro-in-law, mate. I mean, you’re still swinging for dicks, right?”

Swinging for dicks? Harry resented that; he didn’t swing for dicks or pussies! When Harry _loved_ , it was because of the kind of person they _were_ , despite what they had between their legs or up their torsos. Besides, Harry liked them feisty, delicate and full of zest, traits tall, dark and broody Zayn was far from having.

“Zayn? Are you kidding me?”

“I know you don’t go for strictly tops, but he’s good looking enough…” Niall shrugged then his face lit up like a Christmas tree just to annoy Harry. “I bet he would be a top from hell if he were gay!”

“Too tall, too manly, too straight, oh and let’s not forget, too taken for my taste,” Harry snorted, emphasis on each adjective as he bent down to check on the toast. “You sure you fancy my sister?”

“Course, but she lost her chance. I’m with Lee now!” Niall finally made himself useful going through the cabinets in search of plates and cups to finish setting the table. “And even you have to admit the guy knows how to make an entrance.”

“An entrance, all right!” Harry snorted. “Have you forgotten how I got to meet the bloke?”

Harry would forever remember the all disheveled, askew-clothed bloke who had knocked on his door in the middle of the day hastily thrusting his hand at Harry to introduce himself before his infamous “ _chick next door said you may have a  couple of condoms to spare, mate?”_ The thump-thump bloke who had made Harry flee from his own bedroom the night before was asking for supplies to fuck Harry’s sister, even if at that time Zayn had thought Harry just to be the _best friend gay bloke next door to this girl he was seeing talked about all the time, yeah?_ Gem’s text to _just_ _give Zayn the bloody condoms already!_ and the way Zayn was looking everywhere but at Harry, and that probably made him miss the similarities between Harry and the _chick next door_ was what had saved the bloke’s life that day.

“No!” Niall laughed, eyes dancing with mischief. Harry flipped him the bird. “Your sister is the devil, mate!”  

“You get used to her evil ways after a while. The toast is almost done, table mats are in the drawer.”

“Got it!”

Niall aligned the mats on the table while Harry looked for his mitts to get the baking sheet from the oven. It was a good thing they were nowhere in sight, because Niall’s next pearl of wisdom timed with Gemma all bubbly and cheerful letting them know she was finally joining the world of the living would have made Harry drop all the morning hard work on the floor.

“You would totally bottom for him!”

“Who would Harry bottom for?”

“No one!”

“Zayn!”

“Zayn?”

“The fuck, Niall!”

“ _My_ Zayn?”

“Christ!”

“Yeah!”

“Harry?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gem! Shut up, Niall!”

Niall’s stupid grin crumbed right along Gem’s sunshine smile. “Shit, Gem, I was just jesting around. Harry is totally not into your boyfriend… He’s totally hetero for Zayn… I mean, he can do hetero too, but…”

Gemma was looking back and forth between them, small hands grasping the handles of the canvas bag she always used to bring some oranges and bananas over for their breakfast because she knew Harry loved them and she always made sure he wouldn’t have to go without.

Harry got the bag from her and passed it to Niall, promising a painful death if he dared breathe another single piece of bullshit and further upset his sister. Niall got the message and mouthed another apology, took the bag to the table and started filling up the basket Harry left there for that purpose.

Harry hooked a long arm around his sister’s shoulder and steered her toward the stove to serve her a cuppa. It was mint, her favorite, and by default, the flavor served during their meetings. Gemma smiled her thanks and took a small sip.

“So, Zayn?”

“You know he’s not my type, Gem.”

“Too tall?” She tried to joke and failed. “I mean, I know you like them smaller than you, but you were never too pick…”

She waited because from all Harry knew, Gem would give Zayn up without a second thought if that were what Harry needed to be happy. Harry hoped she also knew he would never do anything to take the sparkle in his sister’s eyes away from them. Been there, done that once – involuntarily - with Greg. Never again.

Fixing his eyes into hers, his index finger tapped her nose with each word he said, “Too taken by _you_. That’s where I draw the line, got it?” She swatted his hand away, but only after hiding a relieved smile behind the rim of the mug and a mouthful of tea. “Where is your guy?”

“The store. I asked him to get some ham to go with the eggs. He’ll probably bring bacon, too.”

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes as he got the skillet, cutting board and good knife to get ready for more slavering away. “Jesus, I should know better than offering my place for our meetings.”

“Shut up, Jamie Oliver, and move your act to where the food will be.” Gemma giggled and lifted her face, allowing Niall to pull her into a hug and kiss her cheek. “Morning, beautiful. I’m sorry for, you know. And if you ever get bored, just know that I’d never leave you for Harry.”

“Of course you would! He’s a better cook.”

“Bloody hell, innit true? Mind if I keep him on the weekends as a side dish?”

Harry didn’t dignify this remark with a protest. Let Gemma fight for his honor, like when she was a teen who didn’t trust her baby brother with that _loud brat next door_. Grown up Gemma however was more tolerant as she laughed and tried to push Ni, the sixteen-tentacle-hugger-oddity away. Gem had always been a better pupil at the self-defense moves bio-dad had taught them when they were kids. Ni, however, was in his full octopus mood. Harry wished Gem good luck and let them be, tiptoeing his way around the bouncing pair to get to the oven and save the toast from a scorching end.

Gemma had gotten the upper hand, pig back riding Niall and pulling his hair until he started spinning her around and she didn’t mince words to tell him she was going to barf all over his face. In retaliation, Niall increased his spinning cycle and Gemma added a litany of curses and the thousands of ways she would end Niall’s life if he didn’t put her down while they both laughed in Harry’s kitchen. They were two of the most influential beings in Harry’s life, heading to their thirties, owners of a fairly successful, growing business, acting like the kids who had made sense of the world Harry had been thrown into after bio-dad left, and Harry couldn’t have loved them more if he tried.

However, he wasn’t working around the two silly, endearing (and exactly what dad would have recommended to get him out of that funk) children and risk getting stomped by them. With promises that landed in deaf ears of there being hell to pay if they broke and ruined anything in the kitchen, Harry maneuvered his way into the living room to wait for his final two guests and their offers for breakfast and of more work for Harry.

He was sipping on a cup of tea and munching on a slice of warm toast, watching the world go by outside through the living room window when Liam parked his car behind Niall’s. Harry gulped down the last of his tea and placed his mug on the coffee table before pulling on his shoes and coat to go outside and rescue Liam from his obsession with the straightness of the Play and Display ticket on his dashboard.

“Think it’s straight enough, mate.”

Liam shook his hand and peered inside the car. “As if you’d know anything about being straight.”

“I do, ‘bout half the time. Need help with your things? Gem and Niall can’t be left alone for too long without proper supervision.”

Liam motioned for him to wait and walked around to the passenger side of the car “They’re already here? Shit!” He handed Harry a couple of Gail’s Bakery boxes, got his messenger bag, and spied on the parking ticket just to make sure. “Have you started anything yet?”

“Nah! Gem’s just got here, and now she and Ni are hell bent on destroying my kitchen. You’ve got time for a cuppa before Zayn’s back from the grocers.”

“Great. I was over at Danielle’s. We stayed up until after two, and she still has so much shit to pack, Haz!”

Harry took a calming breath and tried to smile. He wasn’t going back to that place so soon. “She’s a girl, Li! Did you think you’d just have to give away half or your closet space and a couple of drawers and that would be it?”

“Hell, yeah! I mean, it’s just living together, but at this rate I reckon we’ll have to buy a bigger place soon!”

Despite his words, there was plenty of fondness behind Liam’s words; he wasn’t opposed to the idea of trading the four bedroom flat he had gotten with the purpose of marrying Dani in mind. Perhaps sometime next year he would be dragging Harry along this five-bedroom house hunting quest of his, a surprise Christmas gift for Dani and the kid she may be expecting by then.

Harry tightened his grip on the boxes. His best mates were happy; he was better than that.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, we’d better get in.”

“Sure.”

Once back to the kitchen, Ni and Gem were giggling around fresh cups of tea while the kettle boiled on the stove. Liam kissed Gem and bumped fists with Ni then took a seat himself at the table. Gem opened the boxes and got the muffins, placing them in another basket on the table.

Niall frowned. “The fuck, Li? You got muffins from the competition?”

“I couldn’t get any of ours, since it’s Sunday and we’re closed, in case you haven’t noticed!”

“Why didn’t you bake them?”

“You know I can’t bake for shit!”

“Doesn’t matter, mate! They’re competition!” Niall got the pink box and shook it under Liam’s nose, “What happens when the neighbors peek into Harry’s garbage and see this pink monstrosity?”

“Gem is my neighbor.”

“I don’t peek into Harry’s garbage!”

“You’re not his only neighbor!”

Liam spread some jam on top of his muffin and took a large bite. “Stop being ridiculous, Ni. Nobody saw me coming in.”

Their bickering came to an abrupt end once Gemma’s mobile started chirping a happy jazzy-pop tune with Zayn’s smiling face flashing on the screen, and she stuffed a whole muffin, wrapper and everything, in Niall’s mouth. “Help us get rid of the evidence, dove! Hi, love. Where are you?” She listened for a bit, munching on her own muffin. “Zayn’s about to leave. Anybody needs anything?” Niall dared to mouth something like dark garbage bags to hide their shame and got a slap on the head from Liam for his trouble. “We’re good, love. I’m heading out front to wait for you, yeah?”

“Love? She calls him love now?” Liam asked while they watched her disappear down the hall to the living room.

“Among other things when they’re up to no good in her bedroom.”

“Ouch, mate!” Liam wheezed and Harry slumped further in his chair. “They still giving you a hard time?”

“Harder, harder…”

Niall was too far and Harry was too tired to inflict him any kind of body harm; he had a lifetime to screw up with Niall’s food anyway. “I barely slept last night.”

“This is not healthy, man. We gotta hook you up with someone!” Liam on a mission was a scary sight made of loads of good intention and fierce determination to have things over and done with as soon as humanly possible. Unfortunately, given Harry’s mood lately, it could also mean things would go south pretty soon. “What about that guy from the gym? He asked after you the other day.”

“The redheaded one?” Harry asked from the depths of his tabletop. He wouldn’t mind tapping the redheaded one; they always had flecks in the most interesting parts of their anatomies.

“Nah, the bloke with dark hair, from the push up bench.”

“No way! My ego wouldn’t survive playing second fiddle to his reflex in the mirror. Bottom-guy must have a mirror on the ceiling to see his muscles flexing every time he gets nailed.”

Liam and Niall laughed, and Harry caught himself chuckling too.

Niall nudged him with his foot. Harry really had to tell him to take off his shoes. “Lee’s got this friend who just broke up with her cheating boyfriend and is dying for a revenge fuck.”

“How can it be a revenge fuck if the guy is now her ex?”

“Not the point, Li. A fuck is a fuck, the girl is hot, no strings attached. What’s little Haz got to lose?”

In his mind, Harry was listing everything that could go wrong in this scheme when they heard the front door open and quiet voices drifting towards them.

Gemma had her attention and delighted smile directed to the yellow petals of the small bouquet of flowers in her hands, Zayn’s arm wrapped around her waist. They weren’t so loud when they were both up and fully clothed in polite company. They were indeed pretty discreet and quite silly, giggling around each other and smiling about secret things that were nobody’s business but theirs, his lips kissing the side of her head, and their eyes sparkling with that thing Harry wanted more and more for himself with each passing minute.

“Everything,” Harry mumbled to himself, nodding a brief hello to Zayn and getting the plastic bag he had in his hand. “What’ve you got?”

“The eggs. Gem said it would be okay to bring some bacon and ham, that you like them?”

There was something kind of shitty and inconvenient about having to cook again begging to leave his mouth, but Harry had seen Zayn high-fiving his friends, smiling at easy as they made small talk while Zayn grabbed a muffin for himself and offered Gem the first bite. The way Gem looked into his eyes and said her thanks.

Harry was not screwing that. He had never been any good at being sarcastic around his friends anyway.

“It’s cool, man. Grab a toast, tea is almost ready. Scrambled eggs and ham okay?” Under a chorus of yes, sure, Harry put the bacon in the skillet and got the cutting board.

“Need help with that?”

A little startled, Harry nodded and moved sideways to make room for Zayn. “Thanks. Can you chop the ham while I do the eggs?”

“You got it.” Zayn got the chopping board and knife, working on the ham with easy. “Is this fine?”

“Yeah, thanks. You do it like a pro.”

“Yeah, have to. We gotta eat somehow and Louis… is not very keen on cooking.”

“Somebody check the bacon,” Harry said to the other lot of them at the table. “Louis? Oh, your roommate. So you do most the cooking?” Zayn answered his question with a stiff nod and nothing else.

“Him?” Gemma elbowed her way to the stove and poked the bacon with a fork. Harry owed her one. “Zayn doesn’t like cooking at all!”

“I like cooking, I’m just too lazy to bother.” Zayn crocked a smile. “Louis’s gonna be broken hearted, man.” Zayn dropped the ham in another pan and moving them around with a spatula while they cooked. “He was looking forward to some of your muffins for later today,” he added softly.

“Your flat mate tried my muffins?” Harry asked, surprised; Zayn shrugged in return. “Did he like them?”

“Liked them? He is like a kid hiding them around the house whenever Gem gives me some after your meetings, the little twat.”

Harry smiled as he seasoned the eggs with chives and the last bit of parmesan before pouring the mix on the ham sizzling in the pan, taking things over from there, pleased with the unexpected compliment. “Don’t you get to have any?”

“Only when he wants to share, otherwise all I get are the wraps he leaves around the flat for me to find.” 

Food finally done, everybody was back to the table with dishes passed back and forth while they caught up on everybody’s week. Everybody except for Harry, who still felt all silly and bubbly and a bit weirded out on how someone he didn’t even know - Zayn hardly ever mentioned his flat-mate in their conversations - could make him feel better about himself in what still could turn out to be a shitty morning.

When it was time to get started on business, Zayn stood up to go. “I’ll stop by the house for a bit then I’m meeting Louis. We’ll be out for the day, but probably be back home by the time you guys are done with dinner with your folks, if you wanna call me later.”

Niall saved a couple of muffins in his plate then pushed the others towards Zayn. “Do us a favor and take these with you. And make sure you burn this shameful pink thing when you get home, got it?”

“Got it, mate.” Zayn laughed and helped Gem arrange them in one of the pink boxes.  

“Here, love,” Gemma slapped Niall’s hand away when he tried to snatch another muffin. “Not as good as Harry’s, sorry. Tell Louis they will have to do.”

Zayn pecked Gem on the nose and winked – winked! – at Harry. “He’ll be brokenhearted, man.”

And now Harry was officially embarrassed and definitely annoyed because Zayn had no business making fun of him in his own house. Only Gem and Niall (within reason) had that privilege.

“It’s just muffins, for Christ sake!”

“Oh, believe me mate, it’s not!” Liam harrumphed, the pretend annoyance betrayed by his smile. “Did you know every fucking Thursday he blackmails Dani into sharing hers with him at lunch break, otherwise he will spread word around the teacher’s lounge about how good they are and they will mob her into sharing with everyone else? She swears to God he can smell them in the air!”

Niall then started on a whole, new rant on the whys Zayn needed to dispose them on the Thames under the risks-slash-ridiculousness of getting another potential client hooked on the muffins from the competition. Harry was only half-paying attention to all the bickering, because, of course Liam knew Harry was in charge of all the baking for the shop on both Wednesdays and Fridays, but how could he know…

Oh!

Oh.

Of course, Liam would know about the muffins with Gemma and Zayn being the fruit of the _I-have-a-friend-who-has-a-friend-who’s-not-seeing-anyone_ - _at-the-moment_ hookup loins because Dani and that Louis bloke worked at the same school. Dani and Liam had done the same for Niall and Lee; long-term relationships was what they got in return. Nobody thought of doing the same for Harry, except to set him up with some easy fucks every now and then.

Well, at least the bloke liked his muffins for what they were; for once Harry was glad it wasn’t in a sexual way.

Or perhaps he was not.

And that was bitter, pathetic Harry back with a vengeance.

Fuck, he did need to get a shag, like, yesterday!

Box of muffin safely tucked out of Niall’s reach, Zayn was making his rounds of goodbyes when…

 “Tell your flat mate… Louis, right? Tell him he’ll be getting a batch of his own next time we have a meeting.”

Somewhere between _flat mate_ and _a batch of his own_ , Harry could hear the tingling of the proverbial pin dropping to the floor resonating in waves all around him and Zayn, their wake freezing their handshake in midair and dissolving the friendly smile his sister’s boyfriend, usually so reserved and private, hadn’t spared them of that morning, sculpturing Zayn’s features into a dark scowl of hard lines.

“I beg your pardon?”

Harry blinked and moistened his lips once, twice, his hand still trapped in the hard grip of Zayn’s.

“I can… make him some next time you drop by.”

Harry tried to laugh it off, but those piercing brown eyes seemed to be looking for a way to bore into Harry’s green one and explode Harry’s brain using the sheer power of their sudden animosity alone.

“No, thanks. No need for you to go through the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, mate. I’ll-”

“I said no, Harry!”

Louder than the words, it was the way that in one single breath Zayn dropped Harry’s hand, the box he was holding, and drew back hastily told Harry he had touched a nerve, a very delicate nerve.

Instinct had Harry look at Gem, baffled by this unexpected reaction.

“Zayn,” Gemma said softly, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend, cajoling him to focus on her.

Harry took a step forward and reached out to pull Gem back to his side, fearing for her safety. His sister, however, tightened her grip around Zayn’s waist and didn’t let go, a minute shake of her head telling Harry she got it, got _him_.

Harry pursued his lips and took a step back, letting Gem be the calm presence to tamper what could become a senseless brawl if her boyfriend didn’t cool down. He saw Liam and Niall on their feet, darting looks back and forth between the two of them, at ready to take any action necessary to keep things civil.

Zayn pinched his eyes closed and took a deep, calming breath before addressing Harry again without looking him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, mate. I’ll just… I’ll be going now.”

“It’s cool, mate. I meant nothing with the offer. I…” He was going to say more, but Gem shook her head and he let the subject drop. “It’s cool.”

 “Let’s go, love. I will walk you to the door.”

“Gem, you shouldn’t-”

“Harry, I’ll be fine.”

Zayn’s back got stiff as something washed in sorrow and softness and full of regret and shame broke into the eyes now turned to Harry, “She’s safe with me. I’d never…,” to Gem, “By God, Gem, I could never…”

Gemma steered Zayn out of the kitchen, her voice the barely there whisper she had used to ground Harry when he had reached the terrible teens and had that need to have a faceoff with bio-dad every single time they would meet.

“I know, love, I know.”

There was no time to think what the fuck was going on. Harry had to get to them now!

“Harry, no,” Liam said softly. He walked to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder meant to ground him. Nothing happened. “She will be fine, mate. Zayn would never do anything to hurt her.”

Harry sidestepped his way around Liam and retraced his sister’s step to the front of his house, all the while thinking something was off. It wasn’t like Zayn to lose his temper, but it was Harry’s sister that could be in danger. “We barely know the bloke, Li!”

“Trust me, mate, I know him better than you do. He won’t do anything to harm her or anybody else.”

“And how would you know that? Jesus, Li, what the fuck do we know about this guy?”

“Trust me, mate, I know he wouldn’t do this,” Li answered with a small, sad smile that was concealing more things than Liam was perhaps allowed to reveal.

Niall cleared his throat and approached them with the forgotten box of muffin in hand. “Why don’t I take this for them and walk her back, huh?” Harry okayed the offer with a sprawling of hands in front of himself, which Ni acknowledged with a comforting hand rubbing Harry’s shoulder on his way out.

The moment Gemma groaned and tried to push herself out of her _batty little brother_ ’s arms, time ceased being measured by the number of restless steps (5) it took Harry to cross his kitchen only to meet Liam’s human barrier at the doorway. Or by how many times he regretted having let Liam (15) talk him out of following Gemma outside. And how could he forget the listed number of ways he could get rid of Zayn’s body if the son of a bitch hurt his sister (24 and still growing).

“Tell him I’m okay and Zayn is sorry, and there’s no need for him to keep plotting ways to dispose of my boyfriend’s body,” Gemma in her despair pleaded Niall, of all people.

“What she said, Haz.”

“What the hell happened here, Gem? What’s the problem with that guy?””

“There’s nothing wrong with him, Harry! Zayn is not that kind of guy. Fuck, I’m not having this conversation now!”

Harry swallowed hard and took some deep, calming breaths. He hadn’t had strong willed, hard headed Gemma Anne Styles as a sister for twenty four years without learning a trick or two to bend her resolves along the way.

“What time are you finishing at the hospital?”

“Why?”

“I’ll be waiting for you and we are having this conversation today.”

“Harry-“

“You can either tell me or I’ll be sitting outside your door all day long. I can be noisy and I’ll tell my bad jokes and embarrass you. And Niall will be doing the same outside the building.”

“Me?” Niall squeaked at the same time as Gem looked up with utter terror. “Please, not the jokes.”

“So don’t even think about climbing out your window!”

“You aware she works on the third floor, right?” Liam could just shove his ever-present politeness.

Gem let out a long, suffering breath and sagged in a chair, resigned with her fate.

“Jesus, you won’t drop it, will you?”

Harry kept quiet and kneeled down in front of her. Let his silence be her answer!

She sounded amused when she gritted out the required information. Harry dropped a thank you kiss on her forehead. Gem introduced his ass to the floor as she reattributed with a hard shove to his chest. Niall stepped over him to join Gem at the table. Harry batted away the hand Liam was offering and crawled his way to a chair.

Yep, everything back to normal.

Liam organized the spreadsheet from his briefcase on the table in order of importance and eyed each of his associates.

“So, lads, can we finally talk business?”

They straightened up in their chairs and focused their attention on the numbers and facts Liam was presenting.

For now, One Direction, their small coffee shop crammed in a little corner of a one-way street near the hospital took center stage in what remained of their morning.

*****

End of Chapter 1. To be continued in Chapter 2.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I finally posted the first couple of chapters of my fic for your appreciation. I hope you guys enjoy it, and let me know where I need to improve - be it in the ways of language, or the way I'm writing the boys. English is not my fist language, and I guess it's my first time trying to write anything in British. I'm trying with everything in me to be true to the language, but if there is anyone out there willing to give me some tips from time to time, that would be pretty much appreciated.  
> Thank you for taking your time to read the story I have to tell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there -  
> Still un-betaed, but I hope you enjoy it.

 

Patient Eyes – Chapter 2

Watching Coach Peazer driving drills was a thing of beauty of long, sinewy limbs stretching forward and bending backwards to cut perfect curves, lines and pirouettes in the air on that cold Sunday afternoon.

Louis hoped nobody ever again messed up with George Green’s plumbing system. It was Sunday, for heaven’s sake!

“Spencer, how many times do i have to tell you? buttocks and tights aligned when you touch the floor! Carmen, make use of those beautiful hips of yours, will you?”

Louis, however, was glad he was there just to appreciate the show from the safety of the benches. Paul, the coach of the football team, had taken pity on the kids and let them out of practice earlier, and Louis as coach Higgins self-proclaimed assistant, fresh cleaned from shower was just killing time before his… monthly appointment with Zayn.

There was a smile, a sad one that Louis had become acquainted to ever since, as his gaze zeroed in at his entwined hands hanging between the V of his legs. After all these years, there was still so much of him to be pieced back together.

“Are you lads a bunch of 80-year-old grandmas or what? Come on, lads! Show me more spirit!”

Louis closed his eyes to the memories of a past he would never forget and to the mix of rage and fear that would forever linger in the pit of his stomach and spread bitterness on the flat of his tongue.

This fear was irrational, he knew. There were three hours, thirty minutes, and a 300-meter restraining order between him and Johnny. There were also another five years of incarceration for the loss of that year of Louis’s life, with just depression and Zayn’s wholehearted support to keep Louis going after the murder of his unborn child, the little girl Louis could not save.

Dots of light sparkled behind his closed eyelids, a product of the index finger and thumb pressing their way into the memories and the pain, and where a tiny voice that sounded awfully like Zayn’s, masked by the emptiness beyond, the blood and everything else he had lost, persisted in telling him there could be more to life.

_As long as you’re here, it’s not over, sweetheart. We will not let it be over, Lou. I promise you that much._

Zayn had kept his end of the promise; Louis was doing his best to keep his.

Slowly he opened his eyes and let the afternoon sun, the cheering coming from the soccer field and Dani’s comforting smile ground him back to the present and to the life he was still learning to fight for after the grieving.

Nowadays, many practices and awkward moments later of him trying to get his breathing back under control without drawing attention to himself and those beginnings of panic attacks, him and Dani had grown wiser: she would stand on the edge of the field, close enough to help if necessary, far enough to respect his privacy and let him be.

Louis returned the gesture, a small smile of his own, no questions asked, and waited Dani turn back to the lads and egg them on.

“Come on, loves! One more time with feeling and then we shall call it a day!”

He peered behind Dani`s shoulders at the group of weary high-schoolers loitering the green grass.  He absolutely did not envy the kids being driven to perfection and into the ground by the lovely terror known as Coach Peazer. Still there wasn’t a soul at George Green’s who didn’t worship the ground Danielle twisted and turned right along with her charges during their practices. She was their most enthusiastic cheerleader, the lady whose support and sheer determination had put their relative new cheerleading program on the map a couple of years before Louis had joined their teaching staff.

Lots of grunts of pain and half-assed attempts at protests were silenced by a single clap of hands followed by slender fingers bringing the silver whistle hanging around her neck to touch the skin of Dani’s lips.

Louis was the first to admit that his fellow teacher and good friend was a terrifying figure once she got her slim shoulders squared and a mouthful of air into her lungs to blow that dam whistle with more enthusiasm than a woman her size should have.

Enough to make Louis flinch and recoil in himself the first time he had been caught off guard by the loud, piercing sound, causing tremors in the pit of his stomach, spreading from there to his spine, freezing the veins on the back of his neck and poking at his eyes.

There was a pause, imperceptible to the lads rolling dramatically on the floor before joining their line without further complaints, but long enough for Louis to notice, take a deep breath, and smile his thanks. Just then Dani would use her lungs one last time before the lads were free to go home.

“Hey, Coach Peazer, won’t Mr. Tommo be joining us today?” a girly voice Louis couldn’t identify asked.

“Yeah, he’s been slacking for the last couple of weeks, Coach P.!” another voice, a male Louis was almost sure was Regis Finch reminded them.

Dani turned back to him and let her mix of crooked-apologetic smile and the sprawling hands raised in front of her be the opening Louis needed to give his own answer.

His choice, his decision, him in control.

One of the hardest things he had to relearn how to do and to accept about himself as something he was worthy of having after Johnny: to be in charge, to be the owner of his own answers.

Oh, the hell! Backlashes for his faults, be them involuntary ones or not, were no longer part of his everyday life. He was there, and right in front of him at his workplace, there were the new people he had met and become fond of, waiting for his positive answer simply because Louis, or their beloved Mr. Tommo, was a fucking fun guy to be around.

He was alive, free to make his decision, to get on his two feet and let his voice shout that blood hell, he had already done the drills with the football team, but by then all the cheerios were chanting his name to have him join their debriefing, as Dani liked to call the last drill of the day.

Permission granted, Dani jogged to the bench to drag him to the field and into position along with the lads under her command, never letting go of his sweating hand.

“See if I’ll show any compassion when I mark your papers! Or plan your lessons for the week! Or your next math test!”

Dani shoved Louis in line among some booing and lots of laughter and cheering from the kids around them. She took her place beside him and silenced the crowd with another ear-splitting whistle as the clue to the guys responsible for the beat to make themselves useful.

According to Dani, Lorde’s Royals had three major no-nos as a choice for a squad choreography: it was popular, lacked the necessary speed to fit an exciting routine, and the squad DJ played it without any mixing. All the reasons that made it perfect to help the kids defuse after the ordeal Dani had put them through. Synchronicity and tempo, the wheels that set the squad into motion of arms, legs, hips and shoulders to the beat of the music.

Louis had had three years to learn a thing or two about beating, another couple of years to survive the loudness and roughness of it in his skin. Add another couple of seasons to memorize when to pull to the left, glide right back to the right, snap his fingers and bounce his shoulders and arms up and thunderclap his hands in rhythm with the song’s staccato, drop his hips and let himself be taken away to a fun happy place that didn’t exist only in his mind.

Staccato, tempo and the glass rolling under the sole or his Vans. The muscles in his stomach contracting and the pad of forefingers and thumbs snapping in synch along the voices chanting they would never be royals.

Louis didn’t care about being royal; had never cared, not until rich boy Johnny had elected himself to become Louis ruler, and Louis had rolled to his commands and the power of his fists.

_But every song’s like_

_Gold teeth_

_Grey goose_

_Trippin’ in the bathroom_

_Blood stains_

Now Louis was his own ruler, his own Queen Bee, relearning how to be fine with this as his hips canted left and right and palms thunderclapped in the air in the rhythm of his freedom.

_And baby, I’ll rule_

_I’ll rule_

_I’ll rule_

_I’ll rule_

_Let me live that fantasy_

The kids around him and Dani by his side singing and moving in unison, they were tactile, solid, tridimensional, not a fucking illusion nor fantasy! The rays of sun in the sky and the wind blowing the damp loose end of the hair falling on his face were as genuine as the whoops of delight signaling both the tune and the torture were over for the kids.

And for Louis.

Dani approached him and looped her arm through his after all the gear was put away and they had bid the lads farewell and reminded them to have their homework done for next week classes.

“I could go on with a practice like this for like forever!”

Louis snorted over the loud painful groans that could be heard as most of the lads limped their way to the showers whereas some generous souls among them (aka boys who wanted to get into the girls’ pants) offered piggyback rides to their fellow female cheerios in different degrees of exhaustion.

“SHE WANNA GO ON ANOTHER ROUND!”

Shouts of ‘ _Jesus, no, Lord have mercy!_ ’ were the beat of hasty retreats to safer grounds.

“Think they will make it back home in one piece?” Louis burst out laughing and Dani is ready to strike him dead with her mutinous look alone.

 “Oh, you just shut up!” Dani said, pushing him away. “I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Today is the Universal Day of being lazy, dear, so yeah, you were,” he said, catching up with her and once again looping their arms together. “It’s a wonder they can still walk. Oh, but wait! Some of them can’t!”

“That would’ve been yesterday. Besides, it’s not my fault somebody messed up with the plumbing system yesterday!”

“Well…”

“Did those kids have to spend fifteen years of their lives on their tiptoes with a leg stretched out in front of them and a needle ready to pierce their skin if they let it drop just one inch? No, sir, Mr. Tommo, I don’t think so!”

“You’re shitting me!”

Dani quickened their steps until they reached the bench and sat down. Then she got her iPhone, googled _ballerina toes_ and showed Louis the pictures that came up with her search. Those sore and deformed feet had to hurt like a bitch.

“Are your toes like those?”

“No because I begged off when I was eighteen, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

Louis couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.

They grimaced some more over the pictures and the horror stories she shared with Louis. In turn, Louis bared his soul about the misfortunes he had to go through to keep up with the football team in high school. They talked neither about the drills at Uni nor why Dani was waiting for Zayn with him.

Instead, they were engaged in a silly tiptoe race from one end of the bench to the other when Zayn got there, carrying a backpack that Louis knew from experience was heavy with their gardening stuff. The precious laminated plaque that, like usual, Zayn had dedicated each spare moment of his time to design and craft the previous week was in a white envelope in his hand.

Like it did each time Zayn presented him with the envelope and its contents, another little corner in Louis’ heart cracked and faded to black, leaving in its place the shape of five-month-old little fingers reaching out to seek comfort on the walls of Louis’ womb.

In the beginning, Zayn wouldn’t allow Louis to stay in that dark place long enough to beat Louis down. Now Louis fought for himself.

He owed it to himself to finish the race, to giggle and let himself be shoved by Dani when he tripped her. To join Zayn at the bench and smack a wet kiss on his scruff, and smile his thanks when he snatched the brown paper bag sitting on the bench between the two of them.

That was how he fought back: little by little, small steps, silly giggles and glorious victory dances until it was time to open the envelope and appreciate Zayn’s creation once they were finished for the day.

He wouldn’t be beaten down. He owed _her_ that much.

“What have you gotten me, Zaynie?”

“Me, nothing,” Zayn said, greeting Dani with a kiss on her cheek before getting the bag back.  “ _Gem_ packed you some leftover muffins. There’s one for you too, Dani.” He offered the first one to Dani, then handed Louis the other.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Malik. Glad to know someone enrolled for Chivalry Lessons 101.” Being tied up to the man who probably handwrote and proofread that manual himself had spoiled Princess Dani rotten.

“I let you win the first leg of the race!”

“You tripped her on the second.”

“Not helping, Zaynie,” he said, ignoring Dani’s smug smile and taking a large bite of his muffin. It was good, but the ones Gem used to pack were better. “This is not your regular muffin.”

“Definitely not Harry’s,” Dani agreed, wrinkling her nose.

“He… ah… didn’t bake today. I think Liam got those somewhere else.”

“Why?” Louis asked, more distracted by the hesitation in Zayn’s voice than by the topic itself. Dani however let out a knowing smile.

“You and Gem kept the poor thing up all night long again? Shame on you, Malik!”

Immediately things clicked and Louis laughed. When inspired, Zayn and Gemma could put the best triple-X-rated baritone and soprano porn theme to shame.

“God bless Eleanor and her couch the nights Gem stays over!”

Zayn blushed and rolled his eyes. “We aren’t that… You know what, let’s just talk about something else. Is Liam coming to pick you up?”

“Should be here any minute now,” Dani said, leaning back on the bench and getting comfortable for a long conversation with them. “Tell us more!”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for him?”

“He waited for me for ten years. Another couple of minutes won’t kill him.”

Louis loved that woman, but if there was anyone who could rib Zayn, that would be Louis and no one else!

“I’m proud of your staying power, love, but could you please keep it inside your pants next time? Your porn romp cost me my muffins! My muffins, Zaynie!”

 “You’d rather I go without sex than you go without your muffins?”

“Of course! You get shagged at least three times a week. I get to eat those muffins only once a month.”

The gods themselves had chiseled Zayn’s beautiful face, but the perfect flushed up cheekbones was all Louis’ doing.

 “Get shagged… How the fuck you know how much sex I have every fucking week?”

“Not the point here, Zaynie! Could you just please put yourself in my place for a fucking minute?”

“ _You_ put yourself in my fucking place for a fucking minute!”

“Can’t!” Louis squeaked with an indignation that wasn’t fake at all. “You know Uni made me allergic to vaginas!”

“You twat!” Zayn palmed the front of Louis’ face and gently pushed him away. Zayn learned to be always gentle when he manhandled Louis. “I’ll just go back to lessons two and three on how to be the perfect gentleman and pledge the fifth.”

“The fifth doesn’t hold ground on this side of the Atlantic, silly,” Dani said, taking another generous bite of her muffin.

Zayn made it clear he didn’t give a flying fuck by fumbling for a small notepad and pencil from his coat pocket to draw whatever caught his attention while they waited for Liam. Never leave a lady on her own in a deserted place, even if said lady and your best mate were abashedly trying to tease you into submission. Another lesson learned from the chivalry classes ministered by Mrs. Malik at a time Louis kept trying because he thought his allergy to vaginas would be just a temporary thing his mother and stepfather had no need to know anything about.

Louis, Zayn and Dani didn’t have to wait long. Liam came bearing a flower and a verbal scowl for Dani’s lateness, that he promptly forgot when she plastered herself to his front and kissed him hello. It never failed to mesmerize Louis how much everything in them contrasted and complimented their differences so beautifully: their heights, the tone of their skins, their sizes.

“I packed us a bag and booked a room at The Sumner. I thought we could take a break from our flats and spend the night in town, watch a movie, have dinner...”

“The Sumner? Something you’re not telling, Mr. Payne?” Liam smiled and nuzzled her cheek. “Let me guess. Bedroom’s still a mess.”

“Busted.”

Dani laughed and pecked him on the lips. “So by all means, love. I’ll just take a quick shower and be right back. You won’t even have time to miss me,” she said, arranging the flower Liam gave her in the lapel of his coat.

The adoration Liam showered Dani with as she jogged to the showers throwing a rushed thanks and goodbye over her shoulder at Louis and Zayn told Louis a different story.

Sometimes Louis dared to dream in some corner of the world there was a love that would curl his toes and made him silly and dreamy just waiting for Louis to call it his own. What Louis had to offer would then be enough to keep it strong and afloat, to last a lifetime. The memory of Johnny acted as a painful, impossibly cruel reminder that perhaps he was better off on his own. According to Johnny, in his most intense and violent moments Louis would need to die and born again to amount to something good. God knew Johnny came this close to accomplishing the first part of his theory in their last encounter.

_Enough, Tomlison!_

“Thank you for waiting with her,” Liam said, joining them on the bench and bringing Louis back to the _now_. “I tried to get here sooner, but traffic is shitty today.”

“Thank _you_ , mate,” Zayn said, running his hand on the back of Louis’ head. He must have sensed Louis was getting lost in the murky waters of his memories. “You’ve saved me from a very awkward conversation.”

“About…”

“Him, Gem and sex!”

Liam chocked and stammered. Zayn pulled Louis hair in annoyance; Louis didn’t mind. Zayn could pretend as much as he wanted, but deep inside Louis knew his best mate would pick mischievous!Louis over brooding!Louis anytime, without a second thought.

Liam stood up and brushed off his jeans. “Twice on the same day is too much for me. I guess I’ll have to wait for Danielle somewhere else.”

“What you mean twice on the same day?”

Louis grinned. Sometimes Zayn was so… Zayn! “He means Gem has paper-thin walls too, love.”

There was a cartoonish quality in the way Zayn’s long eyelashes almost touched his eyebrows and his mouth hung open whenever he was left at a loss for words that made his best friend even more endearing and loveable to Louis. Even Liam smiled.

“Harry heard us?” Liam nodded and offered a sympathetic smile. “Shit, man! I’m so dead.”

Louis interlaced his fingers with Zayn’s and hid a smile in the crook of his neck. Zayn must really be distressed. He rarely mentioned Gem’s brother in their conversations.

“A queen does not become you, Zaynie,” Louis admonished without masking his amusement. “Maybe a decapitated one, if this Harry guy is fascinated with History and has sympathy for the French.”

“I’m far from being nobility, Lou.”

“See? You’re safe, love.”

“I wouldn’t worry about my head, mate,” Liam said, patting Zayn’s shoulder. “Harry is harmless.”

Zayn looked ahead of himself, lost in thoughts. “I once thought I was harmless too.”

Louis squeezed Zayn’s fingers and took a deep breath, inhaling his friend’s aftershave, willing Zayn to remember he was the sweetest person Louis had ever been so lucky to meet. It was circumstances that made people do crap things or, as it was Louis’ case, stupid and destructive things.

Liam shrugged awkwardly, pushing at Zayn’s shoulder. “You still have your head attached to your shoulders, huh, along with other things that make my cousin happy? And I can’t believe I’ve just said that.”

At least Zayn laughed a little. “Can be our secret, mate.”

“Cool.” Liam looked at Zayn and Louis, opened his mouth once to add something, then closed it again and rubbed the back of his flushing neck as if having second thoughts. Louis looked at him curiously and was about to ask him what the matter was, when Liam blurted out all at once, “Harry is a good guy! He focus on his sister because he’s been lonely for a while, but I’m sure if he had someone he wouldn’t be… so…”

Zayn took advantage of the grip Louis had in his hand, and in a swift motion pulled Louis to his feet and shoved his notepad and pen back into his coat pocket before getting a hold on the backpack at his feet.

“Come on, Louis, we gotta go! It’s getting late.”

So Louis wasn’t mistaken: Liam had been _looking_ at Louis, _speaking_ to Louis, _seeing_ in Louis… And Liam must know as much as Dani knew, what wasn’t much, but enough to get the picture of something ugly that belonged to Louis past and that he struggled daily to leave it there, forgotten.

“Zayn, I’m sorry if…” Liam started.

“No harm done, mate. You ready to go, Lou?”

“Yes, but…”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Louis could hardly say goodbye and wish Liam and Dani a good time in town and Zayn already had him halfway across the school ground. Louis was fuming and if Zayn weren’t the asshole Louis loved the most in life, he would be having a piece of Louis’ mind right now. It wasn’t like Zayn was inclined to start any kind of conversation with Louis either, so they rode the tube in silence, and it wasn’t until they were already with their gloves on and their gardening gear spread around them on a quiet corner at Soho Square that Louis started feeling settled again.

They worked in silence, pulling out weeds and digging holes for the Red Ursa Kale seeds they had brought. They had sowed some the winter before and it had resisted beautifully the cold London weather with its green, green leaves and reddish stem. Kales didn’t need much nursing and were easy to grow, useful to the community or people in need of something healthy to eat.

Louis had learned a lot since Zayn suggested they adopted a hobby one year after everything had happened. Louis had used apathy to suggest gardening; that same afternoon Zayn had dragged him to Camden Garden Centre and they never looked back.

Louis patted the soil some more until he was satisfied with its smoothness before joining Zayn under a nearby tree. Zayn handed him an uncapped bottle of water and Louis drank some. He didn’t thank Zayn, but pumped his stretched leg against Zayn’s and rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“I think I’m still mad at you,” Louis said, to which Zayn replied with a quiet, “I know _._ ”

Louis understood and kind of loved it, kind of hated it that Zayn tried to keep him in a bubble where no one would ever again harm Louis, away from the pain he prayed he would never again feel crushing his bones, and the happiness and love Louis dreamed one day would be too tight for his skin.

If Louis weren’t so fucking afraid of busting the bubble himself.

“Is he gay?”

“I’ve seen him with both. He’s a people’s person, I think.”

“Oh.”

Zayn offered nothing else. He just silently passed Louis the envelope that carried all the reasons why he was so protective of Louis and weary of others. Louis loved him for this, he really did, but if he could just… If Zayn would just…

“You ready, sweetheart?” Zayn asked, dropping a kiss on Louis’ head. Louis nodded and filled his lungs with air.

He used the tip of the hand shovel to push some of the dirty and earth around, caving a small hole. Once he was satisfied, he pulled the envelop open and took his first look at the plaque inside. This one had little butterflies zooming in the sky and a rosy faced little girl of about four running and laughing after them.

Louis smiled and wiped the corner of his eyes.

They never looked the same. In common, they just had the bluish paper Zayn drew on and the stylized ‘M’ topped with a golden halo on the right bottom corner that Louis never mistook as the initial for Zayn’s family name he used to sign his art with.

Once Louis was done adjusting the plaque to his liking, he stood up and watched the earth and its tomb of sorts, one out of so many he and Zayn had dug through the years. Zayn joined him and pulled Louis to his side with an arm around Louis’ shoulder.

“She would have liked it, right?” he asked, trying to smile. “I wish we could have planted sunflowers. I bet she would have loved sunflowers.”

“Perhaps in the summer.”

“Yeah, in the summer.” His voice quivered and broke because it still hurt so damn much.

They had to start making plans, check other parks for next month, when it would be time to dig another hole in hopes of making another garden more beautiful and lively in the future. Spread life around.

Instead, Louis turned his body to Zayn and buried his head in Zayn’s shoulder as Zayn voiced in Louis’ ears over and over again the same words of comfort he had printed in every previous plaque and that Louis would have imprinted in his heart along with tiny fingers, small steps and silly victory dances that would never be until the day he died.

_Mindy has been here._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback and kudos are still pretty much appreciated.


End file.
